Sanity and Insanity
by The Pepper Imps
Summary: Does love really conquer all? Is there such thing as fate? Does James Potter really dislike being called Thongs?
1. Prologue

_This chapter was written by ALL of the Pepper Imps. Be afraid. Be very afraid. It was formatted by Xela Lupe. Alastriana's prologue was written by Xela Lupe. Ciorstaidh's prologue was written by Nestrik. Casidhe's prologue was written by Sihaya._

_  
Archive Information_

**_Title-_**_ Sanity and Insanity_

**_Author(s) -_**_ The Pepper Imps (Sihaya, Nestrik, Xela Lupe)_

**_Genre-_**_ Romance/General/Humor/Angst_

**_Summary-_**_ Does love really conquer all? Is there such thing as fate? Does James Potter really dislike being called Thongs? _

Sanity and Insanity

Prologue 

Alastriana Dubhcana

_Houston_, ___Texas___

"Life's a bitch and then you die," the gaunt-looking waitress said to herself, probably without even realizing she was doing so. It had been a hell of a day. A man at the bar was shouting her name and making her some obscene offer but she wasn't really listening. "Men, can't live with 'em… can't eat 'em."

She had fallen out of bed, broken the heel on her best pair of boots, nearly set herself on fire while cooking breakfast, gotten a speeding ticket, and broken the shoelaces the only other pair of shoes she owned that were even close to the right size. After close to seventeen years in the Muggle world she'd never felt a stronger urge to use magic. If it weren't for the fact that she wasn't sure whether or not she was actually a fully qualified witch (running away on graduation day will do that to you) she probably would have waved her wand and made everything go away. If, that is, she had a wand. The pieces of her old one were probably still on the floor of the disused classroom where she had found her brother's dead body.

To top it all off, she was being followed. Stalked, really. When she had gone to put flowers out by her brother's grave she had found fresh white roses already there. Virtually the same flower arrangement he had given her on their first date. All day she had expected to hear the swish of a cloak, hear someone say, "god, Dubhcana, you truly ARE an idiot. What a place to hide."

She had been staring defiantly at every dark-haired man she passed in the street just in case.

He knew where she was. That alone made her want to run away. _Pretty soon I'll have run all the way back to __Scotland__, she thought without much humor._

For Alastriana Dubhcana, work had always been a nightmare. Not only did Fat Bill pay her ten cents below minimum wage (after all, she wasn't a citizen and he was a crooked old pervert) and she also had to endure the frequent jeers and whistles of the rather randy truck drivers who frequented the Texas rest stop.

But today work reached a new level of hell. She needn't glare at every dark-haired stranger she passed. He looked exactly the same as he always had. Granted, he was a lot less scrawny and had pretty much grown into his features. She scowled, and yelled to Fat Bill that she was taking her break. She didn't have time for this.

Of course he followed her outside, she knew he would. There was no eluding this man when he wanted a word with you. "Can I help you?" she tried the 'completely oblivious, dazed-and-confused, who-the-fuck-are-you?' routine.

"You can, in fact, tell me why you're wasting your life here Alastriana."

She scowled. "Listen to me, Severus. I don't need you coming here and telling me that I'm ruining me life. Believe me, I'm aware of it. I haven't seen my family in years… they know better then you what happened to me. They know to keep their distance."

"You had potential a long time ago. Now you…"

"Don't say it like it's a dirty word. I waitress. I'm a damn good _waitress._"

"You could have been anything you wanted to be."

"Maybe this is what I wanted. Ever think of that? Did you ever think, Severus, that I didn't want anyone else to be killed because of me? You can't just come in here like some damn guardian angel and tell me that-"

"Bullshit. No one died because of you, Alastriana."

"My god, you really have no idea what happened? You don't know a damn thing?"

"Care to enlighten me? 'Cause from where I'm sitting it looks like after your brother… died… you got overwhelmed and didn't want to live in some rat-infested tenement and take care of your five siblings for the rest of your life. So you ran away. You put them into foster care and ran away."

"I don't need to take this. I don't have time," she snapped at him, "you're wrong… but I have to get to work."

"Alastriana-"

"I don't have _TIME._" She looked ready to slap him. She had wanted so badly to be able to give her sisters and brothers the home life they deserved. He had no right to tell her that she had gotten scared. He didn't know half of the story. 

"Tell me why you ran away. I'll never bother you again. You can screw up your life however badly you choose to after that. It won't be any of my business after this," he paused, "almost all of them are close to finished with their schooling. None of them kept their surname. Why did you? I thought you said that you wanted to forget… forget whatever it is that happened to you."

"All right, all right," she held her hands up, palms up, well aware that passersby were beginning to stare. She was used to it. She looked pleased with herself when Severus cringed as he saw the scar across her left palm. "I'll tell you but you're not going to like it. It's not even close to what you think."

He was one of the few who knew how that scar had gotten there.

"Try me."

            "I intend to."

Ciorstaidh Hartnett

_County Cork_, ___Ireland__   
  
_

            Her eyes had grown a little greener, her hair a little wilder, and her voice had been tainted with the years she had spent in Ireland. For fifteen years she had lived in County Cork. For fifteen years she had been an Auror, undercover and waiting. For fifteen years she had been keeping half an eye on the son of her two best friends. And for fourteen years she had been in love with a man on the run.   
            Ciorstaidh DeWolf Hartnett always kept the fire in the living room of her cozy home on the Irish cliffs burning. She never knew when the news she had been waiting for would reach her.   
            She had waited for fifteen years. Her wand lay useless at her side, and her CD player lay abandoned on the shelf of her small wooden cabinet. The Ramones, the Smiths, INXS, they were all making comebacks, but tonight Ciorstaidh had set them aside in favor of the soft strums of her acoustic guitar under her calloused fingers.   
            The fire crackled ominously, and Ciorstaidh looked up from AM7. Dumbledore's head was sitting in the crackling flames. She started up from her chair, the guitar crashing onto the floor, strings jangling. Ciorstaidh winced, cursed, picked up the instrument and leaned it against her chair before turning back to the flames.   
            Dumbledore's ice-chip eyes bored into her green ones. She understood and stepped into the flames.   
  
  
  
            It was dark inside the building, and the sounds coming from the surrounding rooms made the mood seem even more menacing. Ciorstaidh heard muffled shouts coming from a nearby room.   
            Through the doorway she saw jolts of red light shooting from every corner. Black shadows roamed up and down the stairs of the stadium-like benches. At the bottom of the room, on a raised platform, was a tattered black veil. Three teenagers in torn robes stood, fighting gallantly to their imminent death. A fourth lay immobile on the floor. Two smaller figures, girls, she realized, also had their wands out. A woman Ciorstaidh recognized all too well stood at the front of the room. A man stood in front of her.   
            Sirius. He stood before the veil, the look upon his face one that Ciorstaidh knew and loved. There were flashes of red light, and Ciorstaidh stepped forwards, wand extended.   
            The veil whispered in the breeze from the spells.   
            She stepped again, and heard Bellatrix Lestrange scream.   
            "Sirius!" Ciorstaidh yelled. She saw his back arching… towards the veil…   
            Their eyes met in the moment before Sirius was sent beyond this life into the next, and Ciorstaidh was there with him, in his heart and soul and mind. Sirius Black smiled, a grin unto himself.   
            "Cior…" he whispered.  
            And then he was gone.

Casidhe Hartnett

_Little Whinging, __Surrey___

            Privet Drive would, arguably, never be the same again.

            _I want her out. I want her out. I want her out. I want her out. _Arabella kept repeating this mantra to herself as she carefully removed a pink bra from where it had been thrown. Thrown onto one of her cats, that is. A banging noise came from upstairs, followed by a quiet, innocent sounding, "oops… repairo."

            "Casidhe?" cried the old woman who was trying to keep calm, her fists clenched at her sides. "Casidhe? What did you do now?"  
            "I took care of it, Arabella, really. I promise this time." The girl, who really looked younger then her years and acted like it also, poked her head around the corner and gave the old woman a thumbs-up.

            "Mrs. Figg," Arabella whispered. "It's Mrs. Figg to you, dear."

            "What did you say, Arabella?" the pesky American had disappeared again. "Where's my wand go?" she muttered.

            "It's Mrs. Figg to you," she repeated, "_Dear_."

            "Got it!" Casidhe tackled her wand and pinned it to the ground. "Hehe! You're goin' _nowhere_," she told it. "Dragon heartstring, my _ass_."

            "There will be no profanity in this household, Casidhe!" said Arabella shrilly, climbing the bottom stairs.

            "Sorry. Dragon heartstring, my _donkey…"_

            "And why is it that you do not own your own house again?"

            "Well, the Order didn't exactly feel like giving me another one after that incident with the hair flattener-"

            "Yes, now I remember," said Arabella, returning to the ground floor. "And why is it that you were using a hair flattener instead of straightening your hair by magic?"

            "Well, I had _lost my wand, you see…"_

            "Ah."

            "You know, maybe I should get a job or something and get my own house around here… these cats are so d… _darn annoying."_

            "Yes, the cats are annoying, the… cats… are annoying."

            "Where's my wand?"

            _I want her out. NOW._ "I think a job sounds like a great idea," said Arabella. "I'm sure they would let you dance on a bar or… something."

            "That sounds great!" said Casidhe bounding down the stairs with the noise and graced of a rhino. "But I've never seen any dancing bars around here… Englishmen are so _proper. I don't see how any girl can find a decent job…"_

            "Yes, and you're much too old for that anyway, but I'm sure you'll be able to find something," said the frustrated old witch as she scurried around the house, throwing Casidhe's various belongings into her trunk. Casidhe sniffled.

            "You always had so much faith in me!" she cried, crushing the old woman in a hug."

            "Get off me, dear."

            "Sorry."  
            "Arabella handed Casidhe her trunk and the classified section of the local newspaper. "Good luck. Never come back."

            "Bye!"

            And this is how Casidhe found herself standing on the curb of Privet Drive while Arabella Figg contacted Dumbledore through owl telling him how she _really, really, REALLY_ didn't need any help keeping an eye on the Dursley household, and how she was sure that Casidhe could use some of her more prominent talents in another area of work. She sent the owl out the window as the Knight bus came to a screeching halt in front of her house.

            "'Ello, Miss," crooned the acne-ridden driver of the bus as Casidhe stepped aboard. She chose a seat in the back of the bus and opened up the newspaper as she instinctively glanced around at the other occupants of the bus. A wizened wizard was knitting near the front of the bus, two teenage boys were discussing Quidditch over an issue of _Which Broomstick? _and a very old and prim lady was sitting with her hands folded in her lap, staring out the window.

            _I am so glad I'm out of there, _Casidhe thought as she scanned the classifieds out of _The Daily Prophet. _'Secretary needed, must have extensive knowledge on dragons…' 'in home fortune teller, willing to work 24/7, contact Gilderoy Lockhart…' 'Missing wand, contact Casidhe Hartnett, care of Arabella Figg…'

            "I didn't put that in there," Casidhe said, affronted. She scanned the next line of jobs, each more boring sounding than the last until she came to the final listing:

            'Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher needed, contact Albus Dumbledore.'

            "That sounds like fun!" Casidhe said. "At least it's better than working for Lockhart."  
  



	2. Chapter One

**_This is the edited version. Prowling-Wolf: thanks so much for pointing out that little error in the last chapter. Aunt Helen isn't important- she's just the lady Alastriana was staying with while she lived in _****_America_****_. The nine kids were Alastriana's six siblings, Alastriana, Casidhe, and Ciorstaidh._**

****

**_Also: this story takes place seventeen years before the prologue. Just… yeah, it's a little weird that way._**

**_  
And, no, Casidhe, Ciorstaidh, and Alastriana are NOT breaking the law by brewing that potion during the summer. They're legally adults (though not mentally)._**

Sanity and Insanity

By- The Pepper Imps

"… and just the tiniest bit of goat liver and set it to a boil," seventeen-year-old Alastriana Dubhcana recited, half asleep, raking her hands through her hair, making it stand on end (which was pretty hard considering that it was in about forty waist-length braids). It was late at night, they weren't used to staying up until four and being in school in July, and they'd had a hard time picking the locks to the Institute doors. Luckily Alastriana's two friends knew some Muggle tricks.   
  
"Can I help?" Casidhe asked eagerly, rubbing her hands together. "It's warm over there and fucking freezing in here."  
  
"No!" Alastriana shuddered.   
  
"Just as well. I just painted my nails a few minutes ago. Black, see?"   
  
Casidhe Hartnett and her twin Ciorstaidh were probably the worst potion brewers at the Salem Institute. Hell, they were probably the worst potions students in the world. Together, they'd blown up more cauldrons than even they were proud to admit. Alastriana had a knack for potions- at least when she felt like it. "My aim is to create early menopause in a bottle. I want this to be painless. You hear me? Painless. You help me and we'll be scraping my mother's uterus off the walls."

"Haha!" Casidhe laughed. "You said uterus!"  
  
"Are you going to take the rug rats with you after you graduate?" said Ciorstaidh. 

"My mother shouldn't be allowed to own a dog, much less take care of children."  
  
"Well said, Alastri!" said Casidhe.  
  
"Die." 

"So, you're taking the little doggie too?" Ciorstaidh said. She was sitting in the corner of the classroom, knees folded up to her chest, the hood of her black sweatshirt taming, for the moment, her unruly brown hair.  
  
"We have three dogs- and none of them qualify as 'little'. Once upon a time, when my family was actually respected by our neighbors, we raised sheep. Now all we have left are three hulking collies."  
  
"No Scotties?" Casidhe teased, faking a brogue frighteningly well.   
  
Alastriana was a native of Scotland but her family was so poor that a distant American relative, her aunt Helen, had taken Alastriana in and she had attended American schools since she was about ten years old. She still had a rather strong accent and was almost incoherent when angry (she also sometimes reverted back to the Scottish Gaelic spoken by her family to call her teachers very rude names).  
  
"Have you heard from Alastor?" Ciorstaidh asked.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Your brother, Lass. Remember him? Alastor Dubhcana?" Casidhe reminded. "Your mother was exceedingly cruel giving you two such similar names."  
  
"My mother wasn't the one who named me. It was Alastor. He named me and he was seven. I spoke to him on the phone last night. He… wants me to go and stay with him for a while."  
  
"Where **_are_** you going to stay with six kids?" Ciorstaidh asked, bewildered. **_Six_** kids was a hell of a lot, and even though they were Alastor's kin, none of them were sure that Alastor would consider taking in **_nine_** children… three of whom had a slight tendency to set things on fire. Those three were also not exactly children, but at seventeen considered themselves adults.   
  
"Aunt Helen also suggested that we all say with her for a while. I think it'd be too crowded. Since I have to go back to Scotland, maybe I'll get an apartment near there so that Mum can actually use her visitation rights. But while I'm doing that the six wee ones'll go to Helen, and I'll go see me old brother back home."  
  
"Alastriana, you have a heart of gold," Ciorstaidh rolled her eyes; "the woman should die slowly, cut in a thousand pieces."  
  
"You're aware that I will be receiving payment for keeping the kids. Of course, it won't be too much, but my mother will have to send me some money. I can't support everyone on an apprenticeship."  
  
"You're going to become a Potions Mistress?" Ciorstaidh asked. "That's just too damn weird. Even for you. Man… I'll be friends with a teacher…" She lapsed into silence, her mind wandering between the horrors and advantages she would have if Alastriana really became a professor.   
  
"Well, I don't just want to get married and become a Dubhcana baby-breeding machine. Who knows," Alastriana teased, "someday I might meet a tall, dark, and handsome Potion Master."  
  
"Right," Casidhe snorted, "with your luck, he'll probably also be depressed and brooding."  
  
"And brilliant," Alastriana said dreamily as the potion produced a particularly large bubble of air in front of her, which popped and brought her back to the task at hand. 

"And," Ciorstaidh added, "he'll have a huge-"

Alastriana cringed, "do I want to hear this?"

"- nose," Ciorstaidh added at the last moment.

  
"You're really serious about this, aren't you? You really think you'll meet someone in England?" Casidhe asked suddenly.  
  
"Look, Cas, Cior… I know I'm weird. I'll never not be," said Alastriana. Casidhe snorted. "I know I'm not pretty and my last 'boyfriend' was in Special Ed… and I was twelve years old then. I'm seventeen and he's still in the same grade. There's no one in my life… but there is someone out there just like me who will treat me like I'm beautiful and special and like I'm the most important person in the world. There is no one right now… but there is the promise of someone." 

  
"I feel like I've stepped into a Harlequin romance," said Ciorstaidh, disgusted. "Or one of those Muggle movies you worship."  
  
"I love Harlequin romances! You really believe this, don't you?" Casidhe laughed.

"Yes, I have to believe it. I have to. There's someone out there just like me and I'm gonna find him." Alastriana went back to her potion.  
  
Ciorstaidh waited a minute before saying, "Two things- one, Lass, do you think there might be someone out there for me too? I mean, I've heard that English guys are so damn hot… and they do that weird thing where they climb on buildings for sport. I'd love to try that."  
  
"We'd better hope so. The world wouldn't stand a chance."  
  
" Two… has anyone seen my Coke can?"  
  
Alastriana's potion produced another large bubble of air. The three girls turned to it and frowned. Then, with a mighty bang, the cauldron burst apart. The potion flew into their faces. Alastriana threw her hands in front of her face, Ciorstaidh pulled her knees up to her face, and Casidhe hit the deck.   
  
"My hair!" moaned Casidhe, lifting her hands to the burned remains. She pointed at her sister. "I look like you!"   
  
"My menopause potion!" shouted Alastriana. "Ciorstaidh- how many times do I have to tell you? NO BEVERAGES! NOW YOU'VE GONE AND BUSTED THE SCHOOL!"   
  
"Awesome!" said Casidhe.   
  
"How do you know it was me?" Ciorstaidh said, turning away from the fair-sized hole that she had blasted into the wall.  
  
Alastriana pulled the remnants of the aluminum can out of the rubble. "This, perhaps? I don't remember this being one of the ingredients I needed. Ugh… we are so going to be expelled."  
  
"No shit," Casidhe grinned. "Who's up for a trip to England?"  
  
"You mean- 'who wants to run away to England', don't you?" Alastriana grumbled. "We might as well leave- we're going to have to anyway. My brother thinks he might be getting a position at some school there. Maybe he can help us."   
  
Ciorstaidh stood and pointed to the hole in the wall. "Look, you guys… we can climb straight out of this 'un. Not like the one in our basement, hey, Cas?" The twins grinned at each other. Alastriana shook her head.   
  
"I hope the guys in England are hot…" said Casidhe as they climbed out the window


	3. Chapter Two

Sanity and Insanity

By- The Ice Mice

  
          "Right. So we're going to England," Alastriana said wearily. "How? Where? You'd better have answers, 'cause the cops'll be coming any minute now thanks to you two wankers."   
          Casidhe looked at the bleak stone wall of the Institute for inspiration and support. Ciorstaidh tore her gaze from what she had begun to think of as "her hole" and took off her hood, allowing her hair to flow free and wild.   
          "Floo?" she suggested, and without waiting for an answer withdrew a silver lighter from her back jeans pocket and lit a small pile of wreckage and leaves on fire.   
          "NO!" Alastriana yelled, her arms flailing wildly above her head. "Haven't we caused enough damage already? And we are _not_ Apparating. Not after what I read about that poor bloke who Splinched himself last week. They said that however hard they tried, it'd never work to capacity again."   
          Casidhe carefully assessed the crackling pile before saying, "No."   
          Alastriana sighed and ran her hands through her braids. "Fine. Fine! But what use," she continued evenly, "is a fire if we haven't any Floo powder?"   
          In response, Ciorstaidh drew a small paper bag, the kind Muggle children carry their lunches to school in, out of the deep recesses of her sweatshirt. She opened the bag, sniffed it, and drew out a handful of… something. Ciorstaidh upended her palm over the fire.   
          Nothing happened. The green sparks that usually accompanied Floo powder did not appear.   
          "Oh yeah," Ciorstaidh said slowly, staring at the normal orange flames. "Hasta be in a fireplace, doesn't it?"   
          Casidhe looked at the flames and then back at her twin. "Where'd you get that?"   
          "Nicked it."   
          "From where?"   
          Ciorstaidh grinned, and then turned to Alastriana. "Now what?"   
          "Gee, I don't really know. How about we light a fire in one of the school fireplaces?" Alastriana crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Ciorstaidh, who remained unperturbed.   
          "That's a good idea," she said slowly, and picking up a branch, she climbed in through her hole back into the dungeon from whence they had come.   
          The fireplace remained clear of wreckage, although an ornament on the mantel hung rather crooked. Ciorstaidh placed the wood on the kindling, and watched as it flared into life. Alastriana looked at it as well, and then cursed and hurried back outside to douse the earlier fire with a bit of water from her wand.   
          "Hey, Lass," Ciorstaidh called back. "Where's this brother of yours live?"   
          Alastriana straightened and climbed back in. "Wapping. 123 Haverton Street, Wapping, London," she answered. "But he'd hardly like us dropping in on him. Last I heard, his girlfriend, Chris, was living with him."   
          Ciorstaidh flicked some powder into the grate, and stepped into the emerald flames.   
          "123 Haverton Street, Wapping!" she cried out, her head tilted back to avoid ash and soot. With a woosh, she was gone.   
          Casidhe and Alastriana looked at each other, until Alastriana said, "You go first. I'll make sure that there aren't any… problems."   
          Casidhe nodded. "What was the address again?"   
          Alastriana repeated it, and within a moment Casidhe had passed over miles of countryside and ocean. Then Alastriana herself stepped into the flames, and blew a kiss at the blank stone wall.  
~*~  
          She landed behind Ciorstaidh, who was standing, hood up, hands in pockets. Ciorstaidh stood in the front doorway of a small, cramped room. Her eyes darted out of the windows and down the streets. Alastriana rose from her crouch and evaluated the place. The carpet was bright orange, the furniture, mahogany. A staircase stood on the left, hugging a side wall. The room was cluttered with end tables and knickknacks and mementos. It was a mismatched, homey, and comfortable room.   
          Casidhe was sitting next to her sister's feet, knocking dust and ash from her boots. Alastriana stepped out of the fireplace and promptly sneezed.   
          "Hello?"   
          The three girls froze at the sound of the voice. Ciorstaidh's eyes darted to the front door, through which the sounds of Wapping, London floated in. It tempted her, tempted her even more than some kleptomaniac urge passing over her in a dollar store.   
          "Hello?" 

          "Shit. That's not my brother. Definitely a guy, though," Alastriana cringed. "This is bad."  
          Footsteps pounded in a matched rhythm down the staircase, and at the foot of the steps suddenly stood a man in a long florid dressing gown tied hastily about the waist. His eyes settled on Ciorstaidh, standing near the door with a hunted expression upon her face, to Casidhe, who alternated glancing wildly about the room and checking on her nail polish, to Alastriana. Then his gaze drifted to a point somewhere between them all on a space above their heads.   
          Casidhe dared to turn. On the wall was a large portrait of Alastriana, the object of the man's gaze. Alastriana was playfully slapping a tall man who looked to be in his mid-twenties. Dark brown hair flopped into his eyes.   
          Hot, Casidhe thought, and turned her eyes once more on the blonde man in the flowery bathrobe. He was looking fixedly at Alastriana.   
          "You're…" he said, still shocked at finding someone- three someones- in his house, and pointed to the portrait.  
          "I'm Alastriana and I've got two questions for you. Where's my brother and who the bloody hell are you?"   
          The man relaxed visibly as Alastriana uttered the word "brother." "Oh, I'm Chris," he said cheerfully. "You Americans shake hands upon greeting one another, do you not?"   
          Alastriana had no intention of shaking hands.   
          "You're… Chris?" she said slowly.   
          "Yes." Chris looked at Alastriana strangely.   
          "Hiya, Chris!" Casidhe said exuberantly, sensing tension between the two. "Where's the piss pot? I really need to go."   
          "I thought that Chris was my brother's girlfriend!" Alastriana said angrily. "Alastor said that he and Chris were madly, passionately in love." A confused expression crossed Chris's face and then cleared.   
          "Oh. Right," he said. "Oh, dear."  
          "Short for Christina!" Alastriana cried out unnecessarily. "Female."  
          "Alastriana?"   
          She whirled at the sound of the voice and began to march deliberately towards the man in the portrait, who now stood in flesh and blood at the bottom of the stairs. He was fully dressed.   
          "Alastor!" Alastriana yelped. Ciorstaidh stepped forwards tentatively and placed a hand on her shoulder.   
          "You-are-gay?" Alastriana clipped out her words. "You-are-gay-and-you-didn't-tell-me?" The last two words came out in a whispered shriek.   
          "Alastriana-!"   
          "Don't speak!"   
          "But-!"   
          "Hush!" She held out a hand, nails painted scarlet, in front of her brother's face. "I talk now. My turn. I think you owe that to me." Although she attempted to remain calm, she was shaking… and then everything went dark.

          "I think she's fainted," Casidhe commented lazily.

          "No, really?" Alastor sighed. "Well… that was fun. Chris… you just might want to get some clothes on… I'll get my little sister… situated. You two… whoever you are… just make yourselves at home. Then you can tell me what the hell you're doing in my house." Alastor easily lifted Alastriana over his shoulder and started walking toward a guest room. "This will be a long night. I hope Chris can handle those other two girls. They look like they'd like to set something on fire."

~*~

          Alastriana woke up, fully aware of where she was, why she was there, and exactly what she wanted to do. It was rather sad that she'd left all of her ritual tools back in Salem. She crossed to the center of the guest bedroom Alastor had put her in, noticing the two double beds. _I am not sleeping with Ciorstaidh. No **way.**_

          Slowly, Alastriana raised her arms into the air and said rather shakily, "I call upon the four directions and the four elements… I call upon Hecate, goddess of… SHIT!!!" 

          "You really haven't been keeping up with your studies, have you?" Alastor stood in the doorway, looking amused. "You'd better take that back, or you're going to have to deal with a rather pissed off deity."

          "If your flat wasn't such a fucking PIT, then I wouldn't have tripped over… what looks horribly like one of my racy romance novels from home. Have you been reading my books behind my back? Ewww!"

          "Hey, I don't comment on what you keep on you." Alastor studied Alastriana like she was a bomb about to go off again. He was right.

          "That's 'cause I don't have sex with other women," she responded peevishly, rubbing her big toe and studying the back of the novel. "For the Defense, yep- this is one of mine. Thief."

          "I'd pay for tickets."

          "You are many kinds of creepy."

          "I'm kidding, Lass."

          "I'm not."

          "Alastriana…" there was a note of warning in his voice as he helped his sister up off the ground.

          "Why didn't you tell me? Huh? Did you think I was too goddamn young?"

          "No… I…"

          "Did you think I wouldn't… accept you? Couldn't handle it?"

          "Alastriana- I haven't told anyone. Not even Mum-"  
          "MUM DOESN'T GIVE A FUCK! I hate to tell you this, Alastor, but our mum doesn't give a damn what happens to the two of us… or any of the other kids either. MUM DOESN'T CARE IF YOU'RE SEXUALLY ATTRACTED TO GOATS. I CARE!" Alastriana took a deep breath, "It's always been US. Mum planned it that way… Alastor… you named me because Mum couldn't be bothered. You've always taken care of me. I told you everything… and you hid this huge part of your life from me for… what, five years? Since I moved out?"

          "Lassie-"

          "I don't know if I can forgive that. So, you're gay, woo-freaking-hoo. I think I could like Chris. That's all well and good. I have a gay brother. It's sort of cool. It's you hiding it from me that bugs me. Am I not mature enough to understand?"

          "I… I'm sorry, Lass. I… was scared. Er… even though this wasn't really the way I imagined letting you know that I… what do your friends…"

          "I don't know what they think about you being gay. I think they're kind of in shock. Alastor, we blew up a school. I don't know what they think about homosexuals. It just never came up." 

           "They didn't approve of my project, if that's any indication. The menopause one. The one I wrote you about. But I think they understand… or at least now they do. I showed them the photographs of… our house."

          "How'd it go? The potion, I mean. Before it blew up. I don't even want to think about what they thought of our **very** humble abode."

          "I'm here, aren't I? I was nearly done when… yeah… it was perfect but then someone got in the way."

          "Can you make another one?"

          "Certainly. It'll take a while, hell, the baby may be born by then and we can give it to her right away."

          "Do you want me to take…"

          "No. I've got them. I'm good, Alastor. You've done your share."

          "Even the baby? You were always terrified of babies."

          "I'm good," Alastriana smiled somewhat sadly. Alastor had given up a lot for her. A normal childhood, friends… "You want to help me pick out names?"

          "Names?"

          "I plan to name the kid. Maybe Maire if it's a girl?"

          "I like that," Alastor smiled at his sister. "Are you all right? Up to going and talking with your friends?"

          "I think so."

          A sound from the other room made both of them jump. Ciorstaidh's voice. "Holy SHIT! It's ALIVE!"

          "We'd better get out there," Alastor looked stricken and started toward the door.

          "Alastor?"

          "What, Lass?"

          "I'm sorry I… reacted like I did."        

          "I couldn't have expected you to react any other way. Seriously, Lass. It's no problem. I still love you, sis."

          "I love you too."

**Disclaimer- **Aww, how melodramatic am I? All of the characters in this chapter are property of The Pepper Imps. Eventually this will change. They just need to get to Hogwarts. Er… I'm not quite sure where Wapping actually is.


	4. Chapter Three

Sanity and Insanity This chapter was written by Xela Lupe and edited by Nestrik and Sihaya Chapter Four  
  
~~~ ~~~ ~~~  
  
"We'd better land now," Alastor tossed a glance over his shoulder at Alastriana. She was looking rather green. Alastor knew that she couldn't fly. She hadn't learned young enough and by the time she reached America she'd had no intention of ever learning. Later they'd found that she had horrible motion sickness and it was lucky that she'd never learned to begin with. So, she was sitting on the back of Chris's broom and trying desperately not to think about the way her legs were dangling.  
"Lass? You're face is starting to match that thing on your head," Ciorstaidh looked concerned as they began their descent. She'd never seen Alastriana look this bad. She wondered for a moment if Alastriana was going to throw up on her brother's boyfriend. As they touched down, Alastriana made a beeline for some curious looking bushes. Chris followed her slowly.  
Alastor looked at Casidhe and Ciorstaidh. "They'll be back in a minute."  
"I wonder if she had any of that gay pride cereal." Ciorstaidh mused.  
  
"That wasn't cereal. Or at least it hadn't been for a few months. Chris isn't too great at throwing things out."  
  
Chris saw Alastriana straighten and offered her a mint. She cringed and said quietly. "No, I think I'm ready to go. I'm all right."  
"Is it always that bad?"  
"When I know that I'm going to have to go on a long trip I normally take potions for several weeks beforehand."  
"Ah."  
"So, Chris, how much do you know about me? I imagine Alastor must talk about me a bit."  
"Your full name is Alastriana Niamh Diana Dubhcana. You're actually a little less than seventeen years old. Your birthday is next month. Your favorite colors are brown and green. You like to garden. You love to read-"  
"God, does my brother ever talk about anyone else?"  
"He loves you very much. I hoped. I hoped we could be friends. Because. I sort of intend to be around for a long time."  
"I'd like it too. It's just. I was a little surprised. Very surprised. Put yourself in my shoes."  
"I'd rather not. From what Alastor's told me, things have been pretty tough for you."  
Alastriana smiled sadly. "We ought to get back over there. Casidhe and Ciorstaidh are going to worry. "  
"He also said you had a problem showing your feelings."  
"Who, me? I'm open. Way open. I'm as open as a hooker at the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade!"  
"All. right then."  
  
"Hey, Lass- you sure you're not going to puke on the Headmaster?" Ciorstaidh rolled his eyes at her. "One for the melodrama."  
Alastriana rolled her eyes and started walking toward the school. Casidhe caught up with her after a minute. "Are you talking to your brother yet?"  
"Of course I am. I was talking to him last night. Anyhow, we're probably going to be staying with them for a while. Like. the rest of the summer. God, I should visit the kids. Make sure mum's remembering to feed them."  
"Has she.?"  
"She's normally good about it. My younger brother, Gavroche, has taken my place, apparently. In his last letter he told me that everyone was OK and I'm inclined to believe him."  
"Gavroche? Where the hell does your mom get those names?"  
"I named him. Les Miserables. I was about ten at the time. He's seven."  
"And he's taking care of everyone?"  
"Yeah. Poor kid." There wasn't much pity in Alastriana's voice. Casidhe didn't know how old she was when she was put in charge of the children. but it was likely that she'd been changing diapers since she was in diapers herself.  
  
They entered the Headmaster's office and Ciorstaidh's fingers immediately started twitching. There were so many things and they were all just so shiny.  
"If Dumbledore catches you nicking things, I know we won't be invited to stay. And we need this. At least I do."  
Alastor had a few quiet words with the old wizard at the desk and then grabbed Alastriana by the arm, figuring that she'd be the best one to show off- unless Professor Dumbledore had a secret fascination with the arts of lock-picking and gum snapping.  
"My sister, Alastriana, is a brilliant potions master."  
"What's that on her head?"  
"A hat," Alastriana hissed, "thank you."  
"She's sane. follows rules for the most part and-"  
"I'm housebroken," Alastriana added. Then, rolling her eyes she added, "take me! I'm yours!"  
The headmaster laughed and shook Alastriana's hand. At the sound of breaking glass he cleared his throat and murmured, "The other two?"  
"Theyhearvoicesandsetthingsonfire. but other than that they're great girls," Alastor grimaced. He just knew that he'd be stuck with the girls for ages.  
"We go as a set or not at all," Alastriana added loyally, her chin lifted defiantly.  
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Why are you no longer going to school in America?"  
"Because there is no longer a school in America," Casidhe butted in.  
"Hey! There's a school. It's just. a bit. dented."  
Chris cleared his throat. "Headmaster, these girls have no place to go. For the most part, they're exemplary students. and please don't leave them with us forever. I may die."  
"Us?"  
"Chris is. my roommate."  
"Literally," Ciorstaidh inserted helpfully. "They share rooms. And in every sense of the word."  
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "Is there something I ought to know?"  
"No. nothing. They're just splitting the rent," Alastriana said frantically.  
Chris smiled at Alastriana.  
"I may be old. but I am neither stupid nor blind. Nor am I in any way judging either of you. But do not lie to me. It rarely works."  
Alastriana smiled nervously, she was shaking from head to foot. "Are we in?"  
"I suppose we have room for three more."  
"Thank you so much!" Alastriana practically threw herself at the Headmaster. He patted her on the head and said, "we don't normally take transfers. Our last set In fact was. thirty years ago. They is a reason for that. and I'm sure you'll figure out what it is once you start here. Most of the children have been going to school together for many years."  
"I'm not so good with people. I don't see myself being a terrible distraction."  
"And the other two?"  
"You can't rescind your offer, right?"  
"Alas, no."  
"Professor Dumbledore, sir, this place is never going to be the same."  
With that, Alastriana Dubhcana grabbed her coat and started for the door. 


End file.
